Chatfield Hollow is a state park near Killingworth (CT), it's a nice little place and I've been there a few times in recent years. Sometimes to hike with some friends or have a barbeque, once we just caught the summer sun on the sand by it's small pond, but we've also gone top-roping there a couple of times too. Just off one of the walking trails in the main park there are a couple of small cliffs, about 20 to 30 feet high. These were where I first climbed American rock, way back in the fall of 1998.

So when John emailed an invite to come along and climb at the Hollow I was very interested to see it again. But we didn't go where I thought we would. No way, no how.

John stops at a pull-out by the road on route 80, about a mile short of the official park entrance and car park. He and his son Eric set about organizing their gear while I wonder what's on the menu for today. John gives me brief directions, so I shoulder my gearpack and hike on ahead back up the road to find the path. It's an obvious notch in the rolling landscape, on the east side there are some smallish cliffs (rising up about 50 or 60 feet). I spot a fellow setting a top-rope over a steep looking crack. Behind me I hear John call out to him. This is Jim. Another of John's climbing buddies.

I drop my pack below Jim's rope and we go through the hi-nice-to-meet-you thing and he's got the familiar and ready pleasantness of most climbers. John and Eric move further along and set something on one of the taller walls.

I belay Jim on what turns out to be a very evil, slightly overhanging, mostly desperate and seemingly impossible crack climb. He doesn't get very far maybe one or two moves up at most. Neither do I, I couldn't even get both feet off the rock we were using for a boost. Jim casts about for an alternative launch, convinced that the start is the hardest part. We're both a little surprised at just how difficult it is. Maybe 5.10 plus?

In the distance John can see us flailing away, and he's getting quite a kick out of it. Somewhat chastened we abandon the line for a while and go see what John and Eric are up to. John has managed to lock his belay 'biner pretty good. Nothing we tried, including hanging him from a tree, loosened it up. Must have caught some grit in there, I don't think he fixed it at all that day. He suggested we have a go at the line he and Eric had set.

It starts left, follows a crack up right and then there's a hand traverse further right before the line moves up beside an arete and back left to the anchors. Jim raced up the starting crack, did the hand traverse no problem and while he was getting up to the arete he peeled off. John said that's the same place he had got to before giving it away. Jim reattached halfway along the handtraverse and worked his way back, figuring out the sequence as he went. This time he reached the arete and, eschewing the overhanging and frankly silly looking line on the left side of the arete, disappeared up and over the right side. He reappeared above the anchors and had me lower him off, slowly at first so he could check out the last part of the route.

To our left, Eric was working his way on lead up a big slab. He'd gone up quite a ways too before placing his first piece somewhere in the middle. Briefly he toyed with the idea of just continuing straight over the bulge above him (following a 5.9 friction climb I think) before moving right towards the corner. He placed something there and seemed displeased with the ensuing rope drag, but continued up affecting an air which regarded the difficulty with something approaching ennui. I wish I had that sort of unquestioned confidence again, that feeling of invincibility that comes with being a kid.

My turn on the route Jim just did, well ... I got up the first crack and huffed it across the hand traverse but was unable to make the connection of moves that would bring me up to the arete. Bugger. I ended up swinging two or three times more just to show willing. I felt like a pinata in a high wind. Jim lowered me off.

While I was flapping away up there Gary turned up.

Jim and I talked John into going over to that horrible crack that we first had tried. John arrived, John saw, John got his bum kicked, just like us. But he had given Jim a clue to how it might be doable. We put Jim on belay and he went up to a ledge way to the left and found an easing hand-traverse. This brought him to the top part of the initial crack, which had been out of reach before. Unbelievable. Things were slightly easier and he managed, just, to crank it up all the way to the anchors. Wow.

John talked me into some crazy stunt on the climb which got nearly nowhere, and that's all I'm going to say about it now. If you want details, go bother him.

John recommended a particular 5.6 lead to me. I guess I must have whined to him enough about the poor state of my lead-head, because this was just what the doctor ordered. He set Gary and I, with Eric in tow, on a very short, very nice and (above all) very easy corner/ramp thing. The holds were positively friendly, the exposure was low, and I only had to place two pieces in a twenty-something foot ascent. That felt pretty good. I didn't even cry. Gary followed up, taking out the pieces and agreed that it was a nice little climb. Eric motored up there like it was nothing, rotten little bugger.

I dismantled my belay anchor, dropped the rope and found a short 5.1 slab nearby that I could down-climb. I wanted to lead something else, that 5.6 had renewed my taste for it. The topo we had claimed that just to the left, almost but not quite underneath a big roof, there was a 5.3. So I talked Gary into letting me lead it, his reply was the sure-why-not-I'm-not-leading-anyway response that hopefully we'll be able to one day change to no-stuff-you-kiddo-it's-my-turn-now, all in good time though.

Snap, rip, tear. Somewhere nearby Eric was hastening the pace of environmental turnover. He wasn't going to let all that deadwood go to waste.

So I went up, and got a bit of a surprise. Gee, for a 5.3 this is pretty hard. With wide eyes and gritting teeth I struggled upwards, placing a wee bit more pro than my testosterone would normally allow. It took me more than twice as long to do this one than the 5.6, and Gary had just said how he appreciated that I climbed fast so he had time to enjoy seconding stuff. Eventually though, we worked it out. Gary followed up, and said that move by the roof was much harder than 5.3 ... it was 5.7 or 5.8 maybe ... yeah, maybe even 5.9 we asserted. Yeah. Yeah! Ok, so we talked ourselves into believing that the guys who set the rating were drunk or mad or both when they did it. So what? You wanna make something of it?

We walked back down and caught up with John and Jim again. Eric was nowhere in sight, having retired to the car to pursue some reading. Gary had to get going, so he packed up and said his goodbyes. We wont be seeing him until May when he gets back from Arizona.

John, trailing a rope, soloed up some 5.6 slab thing, about 40 or 50 feet maybe. Jeez I don't know. Maybe he's completely insane. Not much doubt about it now is there? No, there's not. I tied in at the other end and raced up after him. Actually, it was pretty easy. But the solo situation is not for me, not here, not anywhere.

He and Jim were discussing a line that John knew about but had never done. He lowered me down to inspect it, like a baited Hoek looking for a big catch. Damn, it looks hard. Not impossible for a hardman though. Jim might do it. Damn, it looks very tough.

"Does Keith want to try it?" I heard from up above.

I shook my head vehemently. No thanks, I've done my share of flailing today and I can see a kicking when it comes this clear. I'll watch.

"Yes he does!" Jim says, grinning like a maniac.

Ha ha, very bloody funny Jim. Eventually, we put Jim on the line instead. Serves him right. He had a go, however it was pretty much out of the question. A very hard roof/corner business with a good hold underneath but a yard of space to the next one on the left and slightly further to go on the right. Jim got as far as heel-hooking from under the corner, but no, not today.

Jim moved around and up an easier line so he could go have a closer look from above, he crawled all over it looking like a particularly thorough mechanic.

Not long after that we packed it in and drove away. Very nice afternoon.